4

Must be a hell of a traffic jam somewhere, Coach Rhys Williams thought as he pulled into his parking space. Only about half the teachers' spaces were occupied. Tucking his playbook under his arm, he grabbed his lunch bag and trotted across the lot to the teachers' entrance adjacent to the gym.

Since becoming a part-time coach, he found himself enjoying life a lot more than when he was just a bloody lorry driver. The respect was a big thing after being married to a woman who was the main respect demander in their marriage… this trail separation and new career really made Rhys feel like a new man. If only Gwen could accept that they were over now.

Move on.

Vice Principal Hawes was already moving down the corridor toward him, her large body quivering as her heels pounded the gleaming tile floor outside his office. "Rhys, I was just coming to see you."

"Margaret, you look upset. Is everything all right?"

"Upset doesn't even come close, Coach. Over half the teachers haven't come in, and we haven't heard a word from any of them. They are all the ones who live out of the village, I suspect a motorway accident or something. We're cancelling all the outside classes this morning, and I need you to cover one of the home rooms and a couple of study halls until we figure out what this is all about."

"Sure, no problem. I noticed all the empty parking spaces. Is anybody calling to see what the hell is going on?"

"We just started," Hawes responded. Just then, the walkie-talkie on her hip went off.

"Yes," she snapped. Rhys listened attentively.

"Ms. Hawes, this is Freeda in admin. Have you been to your office yet?"

Raising her eyes, Hawes said, "No, why?"

Rhys shook his head, indicating he hadn't made it to his office either, which was only a few feet away.

"We just switched the phones off night mode, and there must be a hundred messages here asking about yesterday."

"What about yesterday?" Hawes shot back. "Did we miss a teachers' conference or something?"

Her face softened and she made a waving motion. Ah, Rhys surmised along with her. That was it: another screw up but he didn't recall there being any teachers' conference scheduled yesterday or today either.

"No, nothing like that," Freeda crackled back. "Evidently the school was closed yesterday."

The school wasn't closed. I was here. You were here too. What are you talking about, Freeda?"

"I'm only relaying what the messages say," Freeda replied. "They say none of the students showed up, Mrs. Hawes, and none of the teachers who live in the village showed up either. I'm starting to think I'm crazy."

Hawes said, "This has to be some sort of prank."

Rhys flashed a time-out sign and asked, "Does that mean that the teachers who live outside Torchwood showed up?"

Hawes posed the question, and added, "Freeda, the teachers who are here today, do they live in town, or out of town?"

Freeda paused. "Now that you mention it, I think that everyone who's here today lives in town."

Hawes clicked off. "Coach, can I use your computer?"

"Of course," Rhys replied, pulling his keys. Inside, the locker room smelled like liniment, and rolls of athletic tape littered the floor. He kicked the tape aside, and pulled up a chair for Hawes in his office.

Pushing a button on his computer, he said, "It'll be a minute. This machine is as slow as molasses."

"Don't let me hold you up from anything you need to do to get ready for that homeroom coverage, Coach. There's bound to be an explanation for all this in my e-mail."

Rhys gave her a weak smile as he set down his play book and picked up his laminated cheat-sheet, as he called it: his double sided list of plays, highlighted in various colours. He figured he could map out the game plan for tonight's game against Midwich while he was covering the study halls.

He noted his message light blinking and figured he'd check his voice mail while Hawes tried to figure things out. There had to be a rational explanation. He punched up the first message, and the blood drained from his face.

Seeing his expression, Hawes said, "Is everything all right, Coach?"

Rhys felt like his veins were buzzing.

"I'm not sure yet," he said, catching Hawes's look. "Am I dreaming too, or were we supposed to play Midwich tonight?"

"Of course, Coach. We have a pep rally scheduled for this afternoon."

"From what I just heard, the game was last night—and we forfeited."

"Forfeited? How could we have forfeited?"

"Evidently, we never showed up."

"what the hell is going on?"